


Dead Men Tell Tales

by Issay



Series: Of Death and Transfiguration [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossover, Fix-It, M/M, Marvel makes everything better, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3374858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Phil, the world almost got destroyed by your boss' evil twin with a fucking lisp and a bunch of SIM cards. I'm ready to believe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Men Tell Tales

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no idea where this came from.

He's pretty sure he's dead. First, he was in a church, surrounded by all the dead and the dying, knowing fully well that somehow he had lost control. Then... Valentine. And a shot. A lot of darkness, and voices and completely terrible headache that slightly reminded Harry of that one time in Budapest. Or maybe was it Vladivostok?  
"Welcome back, Hart" he hears and decides to finally open his eyes.  
"What the actual fuck?"  
Man sitting in a comfortable chair, dressed in an impeccable three piece suit and looking definitely relieved, laughs. Harry knows that laugh. "Phil?"  
Agent Phil Coulson stands up, still smiling, and walks up to Harry's bed. Kingsman agent looks around - the room he's in doesn't look like a hospital or even an aid station. It seems like it was adapted from some storage space, no windows and an electric heater in the corner, rugged carpet on cement floor and dirty-green walls. And his bed with a lamp. Chair Phil was sitting in. And that's all.  
"Hell of a mess, isn't it?" Phil starts conversationally.  
"You American son of the bitch, weren't you dead?"  
"Says the man shot in the head."  
Harry's hand raised up to touch a soft bandage on his forehead. It hurts, yes, but it's not that terrible pain he remembers from before. Right. What before?  
"Two questions, old friend, if I may: how the hell are you alive and how the hell am I alive?"  
"Alien technology, the fact that villains never check if you're actually dead. Have you noticed that? They never do. Assholes just expect you to politely bow down and die. So Valentine left you and after the church massacre, beautiful work by the way, we picked you up, patched what needed patching and waited until your brain decides to come back from brief vacation your consciousness took. That simple."  
Kingsman frowned and hissed - that actually hurt. A lot.  
"Isn't your agency..you know. Dead? Hydra and all?"  
"SHIELD is as dead as I am, Harry. And as for your people, you can be proud. Valentine's dead, they managed to save the world without our help though it was touch and go for a moment. And that kid you brought in? New Galahad, he did really good in the field. We didn't get in touch though, weren't sure if you'd wake up. They had a lovely service for you."  
"Fuck. I think I need a phone, Phil. Merlin will probably have kittens after...how long was it?"  
"Three weeks."  
"Three weeks," Harry repeats, schooling his face not to show a thing. "I really need that phone."  
As Coulson turns to leave, Harry looks after him and says:  
"Did you say alien technology?"

*

A week later they are both sitting in Coulson's office and Harry is finally allowed to drink something stronger than tea.  
"The world's went to shit, I suppose," he says after they're done catching up. Phil smiles, a little sadly.  
"Since my...resurrection, I hate to call it that but for some reason my team is hell bent on using the word, I feel that way more and more often."  
Harry Hart looks at the fireplace, flames cracking cheerfully, and nods.  
"Death will do that to you. So how is Clint these days? He must have been overjoyed. Shocked, I guess, but overjoyed."  
"I haven't told him. As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't know."  
That catches Harry's attention. He and Phil are not friends in the conventional meaning - different continents, for one, different agencies that have their own policies when it comes to other agencies and fraternizing, and, well, absolutely no bloody time between crisis' and saving the world. But since they've met numerous times and more often than not shared the same views on things, Harry considers Coulson one of the few people he likes and respects in this crazy world they live in.  
"Why the fuck not?" he asks bluntly, trying to imagine what his own people would do to him if they learned about his situation later. When he called headquarters and finally got Merlin on the phone, there was some honest to God yelling involved. And Eggsy was even worse, Harry thinks with something warm and fluffy in his stomach. Wait. Agents shouldn't get warm and fluffy about other agents, let alone their own protégées. But he would deal with that later.  
"After I woke up...they changed my memory, you know. I didn't remember."  
Coulson looks old and broken, Harry realizes with sudden pang of sadness. No man who saved humanity's sorry asses countless times should look like that.  
"And then?"  
"And then SHIELD fell apart, I had Hydra agents to deal with and Clint went into hiding. After that Fury was on my doorstep, telling me I'm the new director and the shit they used to bring me back had side effects... It's been a fucking mess, Harry. You wouldn't believe what we went through."  
"Phil, the world almost got destroyed by your boss' evil twin with a fucking lisp and a bunch of SIM cards. I'm ready to believe in anything you say."  
"You have a point."  
"Tell him, Phil. Hunt Clint down and tell him. Saving the world will tire you sooner than you know if you don't have anyone to save it for."  
"Speaking from experience?"  
Harry laughs quietly and empties his glass.  
"Maybe," he admits with a shrug. "It's a damn good whiskey, though. It was a pleasure, Phil, but I have a plane to catch. Let's not do this again too soon, shall we?"  
Director of SHIELD shakes Harry's hand and nods.  
"Let's."

*

Kingsman plane is waiting for him on an empty airfield in the middle of Tennessee, just like he was told it would be. There is no welcome party, only a technician from Merlin's merry band of nerds.  
"I'm Nimue," girl smiles at him. "Welcome home, Arthur."  
"Do I have a say in this?" he asks, not really surprised. Nimue shakes her head, hair bright red in the afternoon sun.  
"They have already voted, sir. Passed unanimously. Congratulations."  
Harry Hart - Galahad - Arthur - throws his head back and laughs. The plane takes off.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into русский available [here!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/2997052)
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](http://issayscorner.tumblr.com/)


End file.
